


is this empathy i feel?

by diefakewaluigi



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Fluff, Gentleness, M/M, Minor Injuries, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefakewaluigi/pseuds/diefakewaluigi
Summary: seems like medic is feeling something he never really found before
Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 148





	is this empathy i feel?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paintpaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpaw/gifts).



> HIII i just got into tf2 like. three days ago please forgive if its ooc at all!! i love these guys sm!!! this might be a multiple chapter thing,,,idk rn tbh. comment feedback if u can plz! ALSO i was heavily inspired by Misreading the Situation by @paintpaw!!!!

MEDIC USUALLY was the one assisting and helping the others--it was in his name, for christ's sake. He didn't think twice on the field about his duties. It was very rare he got injured himself without being able to recooperate and trudge forward.

This? This was different. 

The pain surged through his leg, as he still maneuvered through the lot, holding his weapon in hand with a tight grip. He tried to mask the absolute agony he was in, but it was obvious to anyone around it was much more than what he was used to.

He wobbled and started to feel light-headed. Blood loss--he was used to this, nearly killing himself multiple times on self experimentation involving loosing blood, but this hit different. Being stuck doing this and with no real escape...torture, dare he say.

Sweat poured from his temples as he cussed under his breath. Everything seemed to blend together in a mess as his leg pulsed. It was hit in the back, a swipe of a knife from a Spy--he's been stabbed before, so he didn't know why this hurt so bad and hit differently than the ones before.

His tranced state didn't prevent him from hearing and recognising a familar voice, however. 

"Dokter?"

His heart jumped to his throat as he turned around, forcing a smirk. His pride will always be more promient than any pain he would be in.

"Misha, he-"

"Are you okay, Dokter? Heavy thinks you look bad shad shape."

Ludwig winced. "Ah, don't worry about me, it's been worse!"

Heavy came closer, and in a blurred stream of events he went from being on the ground and into Misha's arms.

"Dokter always help me, Heavy's turn to help now!"

"Misha, I assure you I am fine," His voice trailed off into more of a shaky mess. His body heat rose up to his face and a lump started to form in his throat. Dear God, his brain punished him for the frenzy in his belly and brain. 

Heavy adjusted his grasp on Medic, one arm around his upper shoulders, the others right below his bossum. His grasp was a lot more gentle than Medic could imagine, and his gait became a lot more careful, taking long strides but not the running pace he usually did. It was like Medic was a small child, and Heavy was trying to cradle him for the first time.

"You are very hurt. Heavy never seen you this hurt. Let us go back to base."

"Misha, you are aware we can't simply up and leave!"

"No written rule for suchs things, Dokter-"

"Well, there's for sure an unwritten one for", and the following statement in air quotes "'such rules'. We'll never hear the end of it."

Heavy let out a sigh and he adjusted Medic again, having him slightly tossed in the air. Medic landed carefully in his arms but he couldn't help but let himself wince. His automatic instinct was to grab onto Misha's vest which he quickly let go. His subconcious seemed to have took a grapple onto him over anything else at this point.

Heavy looked down with raised eyebrows and a look of concern fell onto him, and for once on his decades being on earth, a tinge of guilt fell in Medic's chest.

"Are you ok? Did Heavy hurt you?"

"Nono, you're fine dear-"

His throat was grappled again, and he cussed himself out in his brain. What was it today? What horrible vunerablity! He didn't hate anything more then this cursed drive in him! And he couldn't even catch himself. He couldn't even bare to look up. He always had issues with eye contact, but it was amplified so much more now.

He had his head turned to the side, catching quick glances up at Misha. To his suprise his face seemed more lifted. And, dare he say, a dusting of a rosey colour on his face. Maybe it was a murage of sorts. Like being in a desert with no water hallunating a fountain. 

"We here now, Dokter." He looked up seeing the base, and Heavy had to move his hand from his shoulder to his upper back to open the door. God, Medic's brain was goo. It's like the pain is non-existent

However, his thoughts drawing the attention back to it made it hurt again. Heavy went to Medic's corner, laying him down on the metical table. It was a shock to be transferred from a man that was basically a heater to the cold, hard metal slab. Medic scooted up to sit up, and Heavy quickly went over to lay him back down.

"Dokter stay down for now. Wound is bad and he cannot strain himself. Let Heavy help." He spoke as he went to go get bandages. "Heavy has seen you do this plenty times, thinks he can do it now."

"W-well," Why are you trembling? There's nothing to be scared of, you fool! "If you need help I can give you instructions."

Heavy lifted up the pant leg, and saw the gash. It was a lot deeper than what Medic orginally thought--not too too deep, but enough to leave a scar. "Heavy clean first..." He almost looked ashamed to ask. "Right?"

"Yes. Get the brown bottle, it's proxide. If I wince it's because it's cleaning, which does sting like a bitch."

Why did he feel the need to re-assure him he wasn't being hurt? Why did he have this sudden care? Something was taking him over--whatever that is, he didn't have a clue.

Heavy picked up the bottle, and the cotton balls. I did this to him before, he just needed a memory jog. Medic thought.

He came over and put the proxide on the cotton swap, and gently placed it on the cut. 

"Ah, FUCK!" 

Heavy looked up, and Medic calmed down and breathed out. Jesus Christ, he didn't expect that visceral reaction from a sting. Heavy went to get the gauz, and also the regular run-of-the-mill large bandaids. 

He remained silent, as did Medic. He seemed very focused in on making sure everything was exactly where it needed to be. Right down to peeling the backside of the bandaid in such a graceful manner Medic never witnessed before.

Soon, he was all wrapped up and Heavy went to get a roll of paper towels to prop underneath his foot. 

Medic looking back could've told him to put some anti-bacterial gel on it, but who cares--he's delt with worse, and will deal with worse. The likelyhood of him getting killed from this is low. Possible, but low.

"Do you want Heavy to take you to bed?"

"I believe I'll be fine to walk on my own now." Medic said, giving a grin. Heavy frowned.

"Please let Heavy help. You always help Heavy. It's what Heavy can do to repay."

"That's all nonsense, I got myself and do not need payment from you." 

Medic attempted to stand, but automatically was faced with almost toppling over and tripping on the side of the gernie. Heavy caught him in the nick of time, his hands under his armpits. Out of instinct, he pulled him up and flung him over his shoulder fireman style.

"Heavy take you to bed now."

"Well, I can't exactly fight against that now, can I?" Medic's tone turned from intimdated to the intimdat-or

Heavy ignored the quip, carrying him to the next room to prop him down on Medic's bed. He did the same as before--taking a pillow this time to prop his foot under, and sliding a pillow behind his back. Medic rested his hands on his belly and avoided looking over at Heavy. His dignity? Crushed. His pride? In pieces as if it was a mirror smashed. 

"Are you angry at Heavy?"

This caused Medic to shoot his head up like a deer in headlights. "Oh, nono, that's not the case at all. Please don't fret of such things." 

"You seem angry."

"I appericate it, I really do Misha." He replied, his tone more gentle. "I'm just..." An idiot? Yes. Will he say that out loud? No.

"Stubborn?"

"Well, I suppose so." Heavy sat in the chair next to his Doktor, and Medic finally turned his head to the side to greet him face-to-face. 

"Why do you not like people help you?" Misha asked. "You get sick or be sad and you do not let people see. Why?" 

"I don't get depressed, Misha. I'm fine. Also, I'm a doctor," he raised his hand to make a motion. "I handle my own alliments."

Heavy seemed upsetted by this. "Ludwig should be more open."

Ludwig, Ludwig, His brain ran like a faucet. That's me? Isn't it? 

Heavy popped up. "Can Heavy say that?"

"How do you know that?"

"Paper." Heavy looked down. "Heavy knows he shouldn't snoop, but Heavy want to know Dokter better."

"Well, out of everyone here, I trust you with it the most. I always call you by your name, it's only fair. Is it not?"

Heavy smiled. "So it okay?"

"It's much more than simply okay, in fact, I like my name from you."

What was this...nonsense? These feelings made no sense! What the hell was he thinking...what was going through his silly head?

"O.K, Ludwig," it was followed by a heartly laugh, and Medic joined in with him. It was always the other way around with him and Misha--being the one being operated on was something out of the Twilight Zone to him. Of course the bed and table were two different things...but it had the same intimdation, even more vunerablity than before.

"You know, you can sit on the bed, Misha." Truth be told, he simply wanted to feel closer to him again. Have the sense of belonging again. 

"It okay, Ludwig," he kindly denied which left the man vaguely dissapointed. He still managed to crack a grin.

"I wonder when the those other knuckleheads will be back, it seems like it's been an eternity." He tried to switch the topic to a more casusal one so he didn't scare him too bad.

"Soon, Dokter." Misha said and looked around. "Do you want them back?"

Ludwig reached out and grabbed the man's hand. Now or never, in his head. Was it too obvious? Maybe. But that was the point of it all.

Heavy took it, rubbing his thumb over his hand.

"At this moment?" Medic let a chuckle escape. "God no. That's the last thing on my brain."

Misha smiled, letting himself relax. "Da, I agree."


End file.
